


The Dragon Games

by avatar_dragon_rider



Series: Old Wattpad Stuff [3]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014), Brave (2012), Frozen (2013), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M, Major Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), WHY ARE THERE. SO. MANY. CHARACTERS, crossposting the better-written Wattpad fics, such an original title i know, this will eventually have a sequel if i ever decide to update it, yay writer's block
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatar_dragon_rider/pseuds/avatar_dragon_rider
Summary: Astrid Hofferson is forced into the Dragon Games by volunteering for her best friend's little sister. Along with her is Hiccup Haddock, the son of Tribe Ten's most famous blacksmith. They are taken to the Capital of the Archipelago, known as the Isle of Berk, for intensive training and judgement before being put in an arena to fight to the death. Only one can survive. Astrid promised Snotlout that she would come back to him, but she has never killed another human before. Can she survive in the Dragon Games, or will the Trainer Tribes win again?





	1. Death By Reaping

"Come on," Snotlout said to me. "Just one more snare to check."

Snotlout and I were hunting on the outskirts of Tribe 10, like we did every morning, checking our snares for rabbits or stray Terrible Terrors that were stupid enough to take the bait in our traps. The dim light from the sun gave just enough light for us to see, and enough darkness to hide us in case we were spotted. Technically hunting was illegal; if anyone caught us, we'd be hanged for treason. But we didn't care. The Head Dragon Trainer Louse always like to buy our deer meat, if we could get it, so we were relatively safe.

Snotlout and I had met around three years ago. Both of us were taught how to hunt by our fathers--both of whom had died in a dragon attack a while back before we met. (Yeah, we have dragons here. Lots of them.) My father had taught me how to hunt and identify plants that were safe to eat, since 10 was just about the poorest tribe in the Archipelago. Made sense, though; we were the farthest island from the Isle, and all we really were was a backup if one of the other tribes was short on what they supplied. 

Anyway, I was hunting in the woods when I met Snotlout. I had accidentally stumbled upon a ring of his snares. I was inspecting the handiwork--I had never seen a snare made so well--when I heard someone behind me:

"You know that can get you killed, right?"

I spun around, and there was Snotlout, though I didn't know his name at the time. He had a slightly roundish face with straight, short, somewhat oily black hair. He wore a faded tan shirt with a gray fur vest, a large black belt, brown armwraps that went up to about his elbow, black pants and black boots. He took the rabbits out of the snares one by one, seemingly thinking I was harmless, since he never looked at me.

"I wasn't gonna steal them, if that's what you're getting at," I'd said to him.

He chuckled at me. "So, got a name, Blondie?"

"Astrid," I'd said. "And you?"

"Snotlout," he replied. We talked for a while, him giving me tips on snaring game, me giving him tips on axe work. Axe work was always my specialty.

So yeah. We go way back. The village used to talk about how we got along so well together, though I don't see how they considered our relationship even remotely friendly. We'd go out in the morning to check the snares, catch what we could, then come back and trade it at the Academy, the village's black market. Snotlout would occasionally hit on me, but it was playful, it never meant anything. We would secretly go out into the woods and rant about how unfair the capital of our nation--the Isle of Berk--was, often mocking their funny Scottish accents. Snotlout and I even got onto personal topics sometimes, like whether or not either of us wanted kids in the future.

To be honest, I would have said I wanted them, if it weren't for the Dragon Games.

The Dragon Games were a 69-year-long tradition of the Archipelago, this year marking the 70th anniversary. They were brought about during the Great Uprising, when the tribes rebelled against the Isle of Berk. Back then, there were 13 tribes, but the last one was wiped out when Berk released their trained dragons on the tribe and everyone there was exterminated. As punishment, each tribe now has to send in one male and female tribute between ages 11 and 18 to fight to the death in a Berk-made arena. Only one can survive. The tournament was called the Dragon Games, since along with fighting each other for survival, we also have to avoid the Red Death, a giant dragon that nests in a mountain in the heart of the arena and controls all the other dragons in the arena.

Thinking about the Games reminded me that today was the day of the Reaping, the day when the tributes were to be chosen. I mentioned it to Snotlout, who just waved me off.

"Let's try not to think about that," he said. "Those Games are a ton of dragon dung, in my opinion. The Isle of Berk is just one giant city of jerks, forcing kids to fight each other, it's sick."

"Says the person who wanted to avoid the subject," I said, smirking and swinging my axe at my side.

"Oh just come on and shut up," Snotlout said, in a tone that clearly said I won. We kept walking, me swinging my axe at my side, until we reached our snare site. "Astrid look." Snotlout pointed to one of our snares.

"Holy mother of Thor..." I said in awe.

Caught up in one of our snares was a Terrible Terror. It wasn't much bigger than a rabbit--not many of them were--with light green scales and red wings that matched both its claws and the flare running down its back. Blood dripped slowly from its tongue, leaving little red drops on the ground below it. Snotlout poked it with a stick, hard, and when we got no response, we knew it was dead. Snotlout untied it while I checked the other snares. We got one more yellow Terror and six rabbits. Not a bad day, but it was even better when I threw my axe at a young buck that was dumb enough to cross my path.

"That's the first deer we've seen all year!" Snotlout exclaimed.

"Yeah," I said, smiling at the buck I'd beheaded. We couldn't very well stroll through town with rabbits around our belts and dragging a deer behind us, or we'd rat ourselves out for sure. So we dragged the deer and rabbits to our hut--an old abandoned house that must have been built before the Archipelago was in existence. We used it as a meat house, dragging our catch here and gutting and bleeding it, so we weren't hauling full bodies to the butcher and risking revealing ourselves. We bled the rabbits and Terrors, then Snotlout took care of the deer while I de-entrailed the rabbits. Once all the meat was cleaned and we had what we needed, we bagged everything, put the bags in our satchels, and started back to home.

We hid our weapons in the hollow log we always hid them in, slipped through the hole in the fence, and walked along the outskirts of the village to the Academy. We gave our meat to Heidel, the black market's cook, who put it into soup and sold it to the passing people. While Snotlout handled the trading terms with Heidel's granddaughter, I perused through the pins and trinkets. One of them caught my eye: a small gold pendant with a curled-up Night Fury painted on it.

"What's this?" I asked, picking it up.

Heidel came over to me. "That's a...Night Fury," she said quietly in her croaky voice. "A mutt dragon made by the Isle of Berk, I believe. They died off a long time ago, shortly after the war. Now they're just another dragon design on tribal and Berkian fashions."

I twirled the pendant in my fingers. It was beautiful. The gold was dim yet shiny, and the Night Fury was pitch black. I wanted it, but I knew if I bought it, my mother would kill me for spending that much money on myself. Then I had an idea. "How much?" I asked Heidel.

She shook her head solemnly. "It's Reaping Day, girl. No charge. You keep it, it's yours."

"Thank you," I said. Heidel patted my hand in response, smiling sadly like she always did. That smile broke my heart every time, like there was some pain she had endured and almost everything reminded her of it.

I walked over to Snotlout, who had just finished discussing the trading terms. "Here," I said, handing him the pendant. "A gift for Hillie."

Hildegard Jorgensen was Snotlout's little sister. She'd recently turned eleven, which meant that this was her first year in the Reaping. Hillie was like a little sister to me, and I knew she was scared of getting her name drawn; Snotlout had often mentioned her having nightmares about the Games and Reaping. So I figured a gift from her big brother's best friend might make her a little less afraid.

Snotlout looked at the pendant and shook his head. "I think she'd like that a lot better if you gave it to her personally."

"Alright," I replied, and followed Snotlout back to his house.

As we left the Academy, I looked around at the village. Most of the wooden houses were burnt in places or falling apart or both. The sound of the blacksmiths pounding on weapons could be heard almost anywhere and the smell of smoke was almost overpowering. Snotlout's house was on the edge of the village, close to a pond that was commonly called the Cove. The house itself was made of blackened wood and held together by bits of old metal molded into nails. Snotlout lived there with his mother Spitelout and sister Hillie. I often preferred his house over my own, since my mother was often depressed since my father had died.

When Snotlout pushed the door open, Spitelout was just finishing up buttoning Hildegard's top. She wore a faded yellow shirt with a gray fur vest like her brother and a gray leather skirt with black boots. In short, she looked adorable.

"Astrid!" she yelled when she saw me. Her face lit up in a smile and she ran to me. I knelt down and hugged her as Snotlout kissed his mother's cheek and went into his room to change.

"Like my new outfit?" Hildegard asked. She spun in a circle so I could see the entire outfit. "Mommy made it for me."

"You look so pretty," I said in return.

Hildegard stopped spinning and looked at me with her huge blue-green eyes. "Do you think they'll call my name?" she asked me. The fear in her eyes was evident.

"It's okay," I said, pulling her into another hug. "It's your first year, Hillie. They're not gonna pick you. Your name's only been in there once. You won't get picked." I rubbed her back a little, then pushed her away, remembering why I was here in the first place. "Hey, look what I got you today." I pulled the Night Fury pendant out of my pocket and placed it in her hand.

"What is that?" she asked.

"It's a Night Fury pendant," I said as I slipped it over her head. "It's very special. As long as you have it, nothing bad will ever happen to you. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, hugging me again. "Thank you Astrid."

"Of course." I stood up and turned to the door. Hillie clung to my hand until I left; looking back I saw Spitelout with a cloth in her hand and Hillie watching me walk home. I tried to force down the feeling that something bad was going to happen, something that would alter the course of all our lives.

<><><><><>

When I got home, my mother was nowhere to be seen. Typical. She was probably back in her room laying on her bed sleeping or crying, one of the two. I poured a cup of hot water and brought it back to her. I was right; she was in her room, sleeping. I set the cup on her bedside table, then went into my room to change for the Reaping. Mom had prepared the washtub for me, and I stripped down and rinsed myself off.

After my bath, I went over to the closet. I hung up my hunting clothes and pulled on my Reaping outfit: a blue tanktop with spiky metal shoulder pads, a red leather skirt split into sections with little spikes on them, purple leggings and my yak-hide fur boots. I didn't really bother dressing up for the Reaping; I just changed out of my usual hunting garb. I put three braids in my hair, then braided those together in turn, making a triple braid. I put on my headband: a wraparound band with spikes on it. My bangs I let hang over my left eye, since that was about all I could do with them. I slipped on my goldish brownish yellowish--I honestly have no idea what color they are--armbands just as the attack horn rang out. That horn was only blown during a dragon attack or to signal us to the square for the Reaping.

I walked out of my run-down house and started toward the square. The village square was basically a small courtyard ringed by houses, shops and blacksmith stalls. The Chief's house sat on the hill overlooking the square. A few people were gathered at the Chief's house: Chief Grimbeard himself, of course; to his left was Gobber, our only living victor; and to the Chief's right, Toothiana. (Seriously, who the hell names their kid that? I know Berkian people are crazy but come on!) She was dressed in a crazy outfit that made her look like a fairy. Green and blue feathers dominated the outfit, with three yellow feathers that looked like they were growing out of her head. The suit was complete with fluttering light-red-violet wings that made her levitate about four or five inches off the ground. Berkian people have the strangest fashion sense.

I signed in then found my place with my age group. The children were separated by both age and sex, with girls on the left and boys on the right from the stage's perspective. The eleven-year-olds were up front, the eighteen-year-olds in the back, the other ages in numeric order in between. SInce I was 15, I was towards the back, but still in the middle. I couldn't wait; three more years and I'd be done with this shit forever.

I looked to my left, where I had a perfect view of Snotlout. He mouthed _You okay?_ when he saw me. I mouthed back, _Are you?_ He nodded in response, and I did the same. Then Toothiana stepped up to the microphone. She tapped it with her hand, making sure it worked. Electricity was not Tribe Ten's forte.

"Welcome, welcome welcome!" she said in that cheery, Scottish accent that made me want to laugh and vomit at the same time. "Happy Dragon Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I glanced over at Snotlout again. He was pretending to gag himself. I snickered at him before turning my attention back to Tooth.

She goes on with her yearly speech, about the rebellion and how the Isle of Berk beat our sorry butts and were "generous" enough to allow us to keep on living, but in exchange they require the innocent lives of 23 children and the sanity of one more. Granted those weren't her exact words, but that's how I understood it.

Finally, it was time for the names to be drawn. Toothiana gave us her toothy smile and said cheerfully "Ladies first!" as she walked over to the big glass ball that held the girls' names.

Everyone in the audience held their breath, adults and children alike. Some of the younger kids up front held each other's hands. The older ones looked at the ground, praying for both their safety and the safety of their friends and younger siblings. Parents clung to the ropes that separated us from them. I glanced back at them, looking for my mother. As usual, she was nowhere to be seen. Probably still at home or somewhere in the back of the throng of people. Whatever, she never cared about me, I can fend for myself.

Toothiana stuck her hand into the reaping ball, dug around a bit, then pulled out a name. I turned my attention to the ground and closed my eyes, not wanting to hear the name that was called. Of course, my ears were on high alert, desperately hoping it wasn't me that was called. I could hear the unfolding of the paper through the microphone, then the name that was called.

"Hildegard Jorgenson."

My heart nearly stopped right there. My head snapped upwards, my eyes wide open, fixed on the stage that was set up in front of the Chief's house. I saw Snotlout frozen stiff out of the corner of my eye, his face deathly pale. No doubt Spitelout bore a similar expression.

It was only when I saw Hillie walking out of the array of people did I come back to my senses. I broke out of the ranks and tried to run to her, screaming her name. In that moment, everything happened so fast. She stopped to look at me, and Dragon Trainers--who were in charge of keeping the peace in the Tribes--grabbed her and me. Two of them went to her, leading her towards the stage as four held me back. I struggled against them, then, without even thinking, I screamed "I VOLUNTEER!"

Everyone froze. I shoved the Dragon Trainers back and repeated the statement. "I volunteer as tribute!" I knew I had just signed my death treaty, but I didn't care. Hillie was safe, and that's all that mattered to me.

The Dragon Trainers released Hillie and she ran to me, crying as she hugged me. "No, no Astrid no! You can't! You can't do this!" 

Unbeknownst to me, Snotlout had broken free of the crowd and was making his way over to us. I knelt down to Hillie's level and spoke to her calmly, trying to swallow the fear in my throat. "I'm sorry Hillie, I'm so sorry, you gotta go. Go now, go find your mom, I'm so sorry."

"No!" she yelled, tears streaming down her face as the Dragon Trainers allowed Snotlout to come forward and bring his screaming sister back to their mother.

"Well then," Toothiana said as the Dragon Trainers led me up to the stage. "Tribe Ten's very first volunteer. This is certainly a surprise now isn't it?"

I walked up to her side, completely emotionless. I couldn't show how afraid I was at that moment, not in front of all those people and the cameras that were surely zoomed in on my face right now.

"What's your name, dearie?" Tooth asked as she put the mic to my mouth.

"Astrid Hofferson," I said calmly, not showing any emotion whatsoever.

"Well I'll bet my wings that little girl was related to you somehow, wasn't she?"

"She's my best friend's sister." My eyes locked onto Snotlout's, conveying a silent message: _I'm sorry._

"Well, on that note, it's time for the boys!" Tooth claps her hands together twice before happily fluttering over to the reaping ball with the boys' names in it. At this point, all I wanted was for the name to not be Snotlout's. I couldn't handle going through the Games with him knowing at least one of us would die.

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Tooth dropped her hand into the reaping ball and pulled out a name. She then walked back over to the mic and read the name aloud: "Hiccup Haddock."

I froze. I knew that name.

Hiccup was the son of the tribe's most famous blacksmith. He had unruly rust-colored hair and a slightly pale skin tone with freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks. He had a scrawny build--ironic, considering he spent so much time in a forge--hidden under a green long-sleeve tunic with a long fur vest. His dark green pants and brown fur boots were stained with ash from working with his father in the blacksmith's shop. He was cute, I guess, but not really my type. There was something different about him, but for the life of me I could never put my finger on it.

I watched with a detached sense of curiosity as Hiccup made his way up to the stage, flanked on either side by Dragon Trainers. As he walked up the stairs, his forest green eyes met my sky blue ones, and I swear I saw something flicker in them. But before I could figure out what it was, it vanished just as quickly as it had come.

"Now then!" came Tooth's overenthusiastic voice, jarring me back to reality. "Let's all give a big hand for our tributes from Tribe Ten: Astrid Hofferson and Hiccup Haddock!"

She was the only one that applauded. No one else did. Instead, everyone in the audience put their finger to their forehead. I followed the movements perfectly with my eyes: a U shape first, followed by an arc inside the U, then a straight line down the forehead, bisecting the U and the little arc. This was the symbol drawn on the chief's head when he took over the village, and the symbol he drew on the forehead of the dead before they were placed on their funeral pyre. It was a symbol of welcoming, whether it be life or death. In this case, obviously, it was death.


	2. Goodbye

After the Reaping, Hiccup and I were taken into the chief's house and locked in separate rooms. This was where we woud say goodbye to our friends and family, maybe forever.

I paced the room I was locked in, my hands behind my back. I didn't know what was going to happen to me, whether I would live or die. I just wanted to see someone before my life ended.

My head snapped to the door when I heard someone unlocking it. The next thing I knew, Hillie was hugging me so tightly I felt the air being pushed out of my lungs. Snotlout and his mother soon followed.

"Five minutes," the Dragon Trainer said before shutting the door again.

"Why in the name of Thor would you do that?" Snotlout asked me.

"I couldn't just let Hillie die," I replied as I sat down on the wooden bench with Hillie in my lap.

"You're nuts, you are," Snotlout said as he sat down next to me.

"Hey at least I have a chance of winning!"

"She does," Spitelout spoke up, making all of us jump. Her voice was soft, so the Dragon Trainers outside couldn't hear us. "She knows how to hunt, and she's a wonder with axes."

"But I've never used those skills to hurt someone else before," I pointed out. "Well, on purpose anyway. When the time comes, I'm not sure I'll be able to kill an innocent kid."

"What about the Trainer Tribes?" Snotlout asked. Shit, I had forgotten about them.

The Trainer Tribes were from Tribes One, Two and Four. They train their kids for the Dragon Games, then they volunteer when they're ready. They win the Games almost every year. Everyone wonders why Berk never gets on their cases about training their tributes, since that's technically illegal. I guess Berk needs them too much.

"Them I can handle," I said with a smirk.

"I know you can." Snotlout hugged me tightly and I hugged him back. "Just promise me you'll come back to me, okay? It'd be really boring in the mornings without you."

"Alright, Jorgensen." I pulled out of the hug to look him in the eye. "I'll make sure I stay alive so you can not be bored."

We all laughed, but the happy moment was cut short by the Dragon Trainer butting in and saying that Snotlout's time was up and they had to leave. We bid each other goodbye--Hillie bursting into tears at the thought of not seeing me again--and then they left and I was left alone.

A full three minutes went by before I was visited again. This time, it was my mother.

Fearless Finn Hofferson. That was what they used to call her. My mother was a strong and independent woman, not afraid of anyone, not even Berk or President Stoick. But when my father was killed in that raid, she retreated into a corner of depression and never came back out. I had to fend for myself, learning to support both of us when she refused to get out of bed.

I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about her seeing me, but happiness was definitely not the first emotion I felt at seeing her face.

"I guess it takes me volunteering for the Games for you to finally give a damn about me," I snapped at her.

Finn just sighed and sat down on the bench. "I don't expect you to forgive me," she said. "I know I never should have forced that kind of responsibility on you when you were so young and alone, but there is a bright side to this."

"Oh yeah? And what would that be?"

"You can win," Finn said simply. "And you will win." She placed something in my hand and curled my fingers around it.

"What's this?" I opened my hand to see the Night Fury pendant I had given Hildegard in my hand.

"Snotlout gave it to me," Finn explained. "He said his little sister wanted you to have it, and she didn't get the chance to give it to you before the time was up."

"Thank you," I managed to say, although the words tasted funny in my mouth. Finn stood up and kissed the side of my forehead before walking out, leaving me alone once more.


	3. Leaving Home

I met up with Hiccup after our separate goodbye sessions with our families and friends. I wondered how many people he had seen; he wasn't exactly popular around here. He didn't really fit the image of Tribe Ten. He wasn't bulky and strong like most other guys here were. Even his only parent seemed to ignore him. I could sympathize with that.

As we rode in the covered wagon pulled by two mules, Toothiana talked nonstop about Berk and how much we would "love it there". I wasn't really paying attention, and I doubt Hiccup was either. Tooth was seated between us, so we really didn't have a chance to talk. Not that I wanted to get to know him; the less I liked him, the easier it would be to accept the fact that he would most likely die.

When we reached the docks, we all got out of the wagon and the Dragon Trainers fell into line behind us to ensure we wouldn't try to escape. Toothiana fluttered towards the wooden ship and my eyes widened. I had never seen a ship that huge before. It looked like it could carry all of Tribe Ten and then some.

Hiccup and I followed Tooth onto the ship, listening to her overly-excited voice basically explaining the entire trip. Well, hearing her explain. I don't think I would go right to listening.

Once we were on the ship, the Dragon Trainers left us in peace. Soon I felt the ship move as the many rowers below deck pulled us out of Ten's port. I looked out the window and felt a twinge of regret. _I might never come home,_ I thought to myself. _I might never see Snotlout again._

I shook my head slightly. _Get a hold of yourself, Astrid. You WILL get home, stop thinking like that._

_But that also means that Hiccup has to die..._

_Oh well, why should I care? We barely know each other anyway._

As I was having this internal argument with myself, I was unconsciously following Hiccup and Tooth into the dining room. The food I saw made my jaw drop and my eyes double in size. I had no doubt Hiccup wore a similar expression.

"We serve only the finest food in Berk," Tooth said cheerfully as she fluttered inside. "Help yourselves." She sat down at the dining table in the center of the room and started filling her plate.

Now Hiccup and I had been raised to conserve our food, but throw two starving teenagers into a room full of fancy food and what do you get? Two 15-year-olds with plates so full of food you need three hands to carry them. Hiccup and I had to help each other carry our plates to the table. Maybe it was just the light from the electric candles, but I could have sworn I saw him blush when our hands touched.

"Now then," Tooth said as we took our seats with our food, "the preparation for the Games will last seven days. During that time, you will be trained and evaluated to determine where you stand in the Games lineup. On the last day..."

Hiccup seemed to be listening intently, but I just tuned her out and tried all the food on my plate. There was some fried yak thighs, a chicken breast, two large scoops of various vegetables, and three buttery biscuits. I didn't know what to try first.

"Now as for the Games themselves--" Before Tooth could finish, she was cut off by someone new entering the dining room. He had a wooden peg for a right leg and his left arm sported a sharp double-bladed axe instead of a hand. His long blonde mustache was braided on either side of his chin, and he wore a Viking helmet much like the ones people wore in Tribe Ten. His clothes were no different than Hiccup's: old, worn, and blackened from time spent in the forge.

"Ah, there you are Gobber," Tooth said. "I was beginning to wonder where you were."

"Drinkin' the mead, as always," Gobber replied, walking straight to the table. He grabbed a large piece of mutton before joining us at the table. "What'd I miss?"

Gobber was the only living victor from our tribe. I was too young to remember his Games--hell, I don't think I was even born yet--but many of the older people in the tribe do. The Red Death had broken out of its volcano when about half of the tributes were still alive, and it unleashed a full-scale dragon attack. From what I heard, there was so much blood on the ground that the grass in the arena actually grew back red. Some tributes were killed by dragons, some by each other. Gobber had been the only one standing when the dragons finally receded, his left arm torn off just below the elbow. Not even a month after he came home to Tribe Ten, we were attacked by wild dragons and Gobber lost his right leg to a Monstrous Nightmare. Some people believe that it was the same dragon that took his arm in the Games. I call bullshit.

"We were just reviewing the itinerary for the upcoming week," Tooth said happily, that overexcited smile on her face that made her look oddly cute. Well, as cute as a grown woman can look in a fairy costume that actually makes her hover half a foot off the ground.

Gobber rolled his eyes and bit into his mutton. He didn't even bother to swallow before speaking. "Do ya ever care 'bout anythin' 'sides shedules?"

Tooth narrowed her eyes at Gobber, mutton juice and sauce dripping down his chin and onto his bulging stomach. Either he was just naturally that fat or it was a beer belly from years of too much mead. Probably both. Either way, it didn't sit well with Tooth. "Do you ever care about anything besides food and alcohol?"

Hiccup nearly choked on his water beside me. I looked over at him, only to see he was smirking beneath the rim of his cup. I raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out how in Thor's name he was finding any of this funny. His eyes met mine, and just as they had on that reaping platform, they flickered with something before looking away again.

My curiosity won me over, and I tuned out Tooth and Gobber's conversation completely. My mind went back almost ten years ago, when I was just six years old and just starting to learn how to use an axe.

The memory was vivid and fresh in my mind, as if it had happened earlier in the day. My father had taken me to the edge of the woods, just within the boundaries of the tribe. He worked in the testing center, making sure the weapons would handle going up against scaly, fire-breathing monsters (and occasionally the misbehaving citizen, as I later grew up to realize), and used that as an excuse to take a couple new axes to the woods. He had handed me the smaller axe and instructed me on how to properly throw it into the tree. I had picked up on the skill quickly, and within the hour there was not a tree in sight that didn't have an axe mark in it.

Eventually my father had been called back to work, but he had left me by the trees, the little (and defective, so he had claimed) axe in my hand. I continued to attack the trees, until someone came into my line of vision. I dropped the axe and watched the person come closer. It was a little boy around my age, the blacksmith's son, judging by how his light green tunic seemed to be forever coated in ash.

I watched as he looked at me, then knelt down to pick up a purple flower off the ground. It was already picked, hanging almost limp in his hand, so I assumed he had dropped it when I had turned around to watch him. He nervously stepped forward, holding the little purple flower out to me. He didn't say anything, just looked up at me and held that flower tight in his little hands. After a few minutes of staring each other down, he opened his mouth to say something, but jumped and dropped the flower at my feet when someone yelled "HICCUP!" He immediately ran off, disappearing into the grass that was almost taller than he was. After bouncing auburn hair had once again become grass, I looked down at the flower he had dropped. I knelt down and picked it up, smelling its sweet fragrance.

 _Hiccup,_ I'd thought to myself. _What an odd name. ___

__"Astrid," someone said, making me jump and jarring me from my thoughts. I hadn't realized I'd been staring at Hiccup until I looked away from him and focused my attention on Tooth. "I think it's time you and Hiccup got washed up. We'll reconvene in the media room to see who else will be in the Games with you."_ _


	4. Meet the Tributes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.k.a. The Chapter That Reveals Why There Are So Many Character Tags

For a high-tech Viking longship, the baths were actually not that impressive. In fact, they were basically the same as the ones we had back at home, only with a means of heating the water. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the bath then changed into the clothes I was provided: a blue tunic similar to the one I'd worn onto the ship, indigo-colored leggings with a brown leather skirt studded with skulls and sporting a few columns of spikes, metal shoulder pads, brown fur boots, and new armwraps that covered my entire forearms. I rearranged my hair so that my bangs covered my leather wraparound headband, then braided it before heading into the media room to join Hiccup and the others.

I was the last one to arrive to the media room. Tooth was sitting in a feathery chair by the white tarp that would serve as our projector screen. Gobber was across from her, sitting in a wooden chair that he obviously thought was comfortable. His axe arm had been replaced with a mug, and it was filled with what I assumed was mead, judging by the faint smell of alcohol in the room. Either that or it was just Gobber's natural smell. Gross.

Hiccup was on the couch in front of the screen. He had been messing with his fingernails when I had first walked in, but looked up when he saw me walking towards him on the couch. His outfit was different as well. He now wore a red tunic, faded greenish-tan pants, leather boots, and a sort of leathery chest armor with shoulder pads and arm guards. His hair was even scragglier than earlier, still slightly damp from his shower. I had to admit to myself that the new look seemed very...well, Hiccup.

He nodded as I sat beside him, enough room for maybe a person and a half to sit between us. He didn't say anything to me, but instead turned to Gobber. "So what are we doing?"

I had to keep myself from staring at Hiccup incredulously. It was the first time I'd heard him speak since we got here, and I honestly had to bite my tongue to keep from making some snide comment about how he wasn't mute and he actually knew how to articulate words.

"Watching the other reapings," Gobber answered, "so you'll know what you're up against." He took another swig of his mead.

Tooth nodded at us. "It's not exactly something the tributes are required to do, but every mentor I've ever talked to has agreed that it helps to know what you're up against in a situation like this."

I almost choked on my own air. Did Tooth actually sound _sincere?_

"We'll start with Tribe One," Gobber announced, leaning back in his chair as Tooth switched the projector on. Hiccup leaned back crossing his arms, his eyes locked on the screen as the ceiling lights dimmed overhead. I glanced at everyone in turn before looking at the screen as the first reaping video played.

The Isle representative for Tribe One didn't seem too much different from Tooth, at least in the way he acted. Surprisingly, no one volunteered for either of the children called. The first was a 17-year-old girl with hair so blonde it actually looked white and blue eyes that reflected the iciness in her expression. Elsa Frost was her name, and I couldn't help but think that the name matched her obvious personality a little too well. The boy from her tribe looked so similar to her, I knew they were siblings even before it was stated on-screen. He was a year older, but had the same color eyes, white hair that was surely dyed, and the exact same icy expression. His name? Jack Frost. Fitting.

The tributes from Tribe Two also looked similar, but had different last names. The announcer said they were cousins, but spent so much time together they were practically siblings. The first was a 16-year-old girl named Heather Burna. Her dark hair and forest-green eyes contrasted greatly with her pale skin and calculating expression. She kind of reminded me of a darker, female version of Hiccup. Her male companion, however, was on the complete other end of the spectrum. His grassy-green eyes had a crazed, menacing look to them, and his dark auburn hair was pulled back into a scraggly ponytail. He had a blue tattoo across his left eye that made it look like a dragon scratched him. He had been the first to volunteer for the 13-year-old boy that had been reaped. Yep, definitely needed to watch out for 18-year-old Dagur Berserk. Geez, these names matched up way too well with the tributes.

The tributes from Tribe Three weren't as terrifying as One or Two. The girl, 16-year-old Anna Arendelle, looked like a frightened little girl, and the orange pigtail braids made her look ever more the part of the terrified schoolgirl. Her partner, 17-year-old Kristoff Kana, looked a little less terrified and a little more...well, accepting. He was tall, somewhat muscular, with a messy mop of blonde hair hidden under a hat. I hated myself for it, but deep down I agreed with Gobber's comment about them: "Bloodbath bait for sure."

Tribe Four also produced a sibling pair for the Games. 15-year-old Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, who looked so much alike you couldn't tell the girl from the boy. Both had long blonde hair and bluish-gray eyes, and were very similarly dressed. Ruffnut had been reaped, and Tuffnut had volunteered so his sister wouldn't "steal all his glory!" I took a mental note to avoid those two at all costs. They'd fit right in with the Trainer alliance.

Tribes Five, Six, Seven and Eight were about as impressive as Tribe Three. Five offered up a short, 12-year-old blonde named Sofi Feltsh and a 13-year-old redhead named Hubert Comebee. Six procured an 18-year-old brunette named Seraphina Hoggs, and she honestly scared me. Her eyes were so brown they were almost black, and I swear they bore into my soul. The boy was a brown haired 11-year-old named Jaime Bennet. I kind of felt sorry for him; those little brown doe eyes didn't belong on someone slated for death.

It was the girl from Tribe Seven that really got my attention. Her name was Lyrhia Haggus, and she was a 14-year-old girl with long blonde hair pulled back into braids, green eyes that matched the color of the trees behind her...and a prosthetic leg. Her right leg was gone from the knee down, and as I watched her limp onto the stage, I hoped someone would volunteer for her. No one did, and I almost threw a pillow at the screen. The boy that was with her, 15-year-old Hiro Hamada, was honestly downright adorable. He had messy black hair, a gap in his teeth, and was so skinny I wondered if they ever fed him. An older boy that was standing with the parents tried to force his way past the Dragon Trainers, begging them to let him volunteer for Hiro. It reminded me of what I did for Hillie, and I looked away from the screen, unable to watch the same thing unfold in another tribe.

The tributes from Tribe Eight were Harissa Goatsheim, another 18-year-old brunette like Seraphina from Six, and Gustav Bork, a 13-year-old boy with black hair who honestly looked like a cross between Dagur from Two and Hiccup. It made me shiver.

Tribe Nine reaped two 17-year olds. The first was a girl named Merida Dunbroch with huge red hair and bright blue eyes. For some reason, she had a bow and quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder. I wondered why a girl from the Edible Plants tribe would be allowed to have a bow and arrow, especially at a reaping ceremony. Her male companion, Hans Hellheim, was another tribute for which I made a mental note to avoid in the Games. His flaming red hair was a slightly darker shade than Merida's (red hair must be a thing in that tribe), and he stood at what I guessed to be about six foot, his arms bulging with muscle. Yep, definitely avoid.

We skipped over our tribe's reaping and jumped right into Eleven's. The girl that was reaped was a 14-year-old girl named Rapunzel Corona, and boy did she have a lot of hair. Her blonde locks reached the floor, dragging about a foot and a half behind her. Her green eyes showed nothing but fear when her name was called. The boy, Fishlegs Ingerman, was another blonde. For a 15-year-old, he was huge. I wasn't sure if his body weight was fat or muscle or both, but one thing was certain: I did not want to be crushed by him.

The final tribe, Tribe Twelve, reaped a 15-year-old girl and a 14-year-old boy. The boy, Hamish Florat, looked surprisingly like Hubert Comebee from Five. Short, with curly red hair and blue eyes. The girl, Karliah Mysteria, was definitely an interesting character. She had slightly tanner skin than Hamish, with long, wavy black hair pulled back into a braid that draped over her shoulder. Her stormy gray eyes seemed judgmental, staring into the camera like she wanted to have it for dinner. She kind of gave me the creeps.

"Well there ya have it," Gobber said as the videos ended and the projector turned itself off. The lights came back on and Gobber stood up, mead sloshing out of his large mug and landing on the side table next to his chair.

Tooth gasped. "That is mahogany!"

"And this," Gobber dumped the rest of the mead on the table, "is me needin' a refill."

Tooth looked absolutely mortified. I wasn't sure if she was going to faint or run at Gobber with a butter knife. Probably both.

Gobber turned to us. "We'll reach Berk this time tomorrow. I'll expect ya both ready to train the moment we land." With that, he disappeared up the stairs and to the bunking quarters.

I turned to Hiccup, expecting him to say something, but he just stood up and walked away, following Gobber out of the media room and making a beeline for his room.

I looked over at Tooth, already fluttering over to the little side table to clean up Gobber's spilled--by spilled I mean purposely dumped--mead. Before she could say anything, I quickly got up and followed Hiccup up the stairs and disappeared into my room, secretly thankful for the solitude.


	5. The Isle of Berk

That night, it took me forever to fall asleep. Just knowing we'd arrive at Berk in a matter of hours just didn't sit very well with me.

I lay awake all night, staring at the ceiling. My mind kept wandering to Hiccup, and the probability that I would have to kill him. How could I kill him? I've never killed a person before. Everything I'd ever heard or read about murder said the same thing: killing a man changes you, and not in a good way. What if I turned into someone I hated?

It felt like I'd only shut my eyes for a few minutes when I heard Tooth knocking on my door. "Up up up!" came her far-too-cheery voice. "We have a big big day! We'll arrive in Berk within the hour. Breakfast is waiting in the dining hall." With that, she fluttered away down the hall.

I reluctantly got out of bed and got dressed, wearing the same outfit I'd worn for my reaping. Someone must have snuck into my room at night and washed it, since it looked brand new. My Night Fury pin sat on top of the dresser, looking newly polished. I slipped it into the pouch at my side and headed for the dining hall.

When I got there, Hiccup was talking to Gobber and Tooth was eating a pastry so daintily I wondered if she was really biting it at all. Hiccup, like me, wore the same outfit he'd worn for the reaping, his brown fur vest also looking newly washed. I sat down across from him at the table, my eyes locking with his for a short second before he looked away.

"So how do you find shelter?" Hiccup asked Gobber, ignoring the half-eaten food on his plate.

Gobber took a swig of something that was probably mead from his mug hand before setting it on the table. "Depends on the surroundings. Tributes have been thrown into all sorts of environments, from tropical islands to the tundra to the desert. If you're thrown into a forest, stay in the trees. They offer quality cover. If there's no trees, then you're on your own."

"Well that's great advice," I said with a roll of my eyes. "You're basically telling us to kill ourselves."

"I'm telling you to stay alive," Gobber said, pointing a buttery roll at me before stuffing it in his mouth.

Tooth suddenly gasped, flitting over to a window. "We're here!"

Hiccup and I stood up and looked outside. What we saw made our jaws drop.

The Isle of Berk spread out in front of us. It was made up of about ten different islands, all close enough to the largest island that you wouldn't have to take a boat to get to each one. The islands were connected by giant bridges, which looked bigger than our longship. Each one of the islands could have fit Tribe Ten's island comfortably, and the largest was probably at least three to four, maybe even five times the size of Ten's island, with a massive rock formation pointing up at the sky like a giant finger. I remember all the boys in middle school making jokes that Berk was flipping off the rest of the tribes with that finger. I wondered if maybe they had a point.

Our ship docked at one of the ports, people crowding around to see us. Some of them were dressed like Toothiana, in outfits so wild I can't even begin to describe them. Others looked more like the Vikings from Ten, only with much fancier furs that even our chief wouldn't be able to afford. I couldn't help but feel anger and resentment towards the people of Berk; they had all this money and they kept it for themselves, when they could be giving it to the poor tribes instead of squandering it on useless personal possessions. It made me feel sick to my stomach, that people could be so self-centered when poverty and famine were running rampant through their own country.

Tooth and Gobber led us through the crowd to the tower where we'd be staying. The tower was so tall, Hiccup and I had to tilt our heads back and then arch our backs to see all the way up. It was made of wood and iron, with ornate boulders built into the woodwork for both support and decoration. On the outside, close to the door, an elevator was situated to take people up to the top of the tribute tower. It was a beautiful mesh of modern technology and Viking style, as was all of the Archipelago.

"The tributes sleep on their corresponding floors," Tooth explained as she fluttered into the elevator, followed by Gobber, myself and Hiccup. "Tributes from One will sleep on the bottom, Twelve in the penthouse. All the suites are equally impressive, although the penthouse has the best view."

"How would you know?" Gobber said as the elevator ascended. Hiccup and I clung to the railing; the speed of the elevator came as an expected yet unexpected shock to the both of us. "You've never been past the tenth floor."

"I have friends, thank you very much," Tooth stated matter-of-factly. "Unlike you, with your grungy clothes and unwashed hair...and that smell of alcohol." She waved her hand in front of her nose, fluttering as far away from Gobber as possible (which wasn't vary far, as Gobber's bulk took up at least half of the space, if not more). "Honestly, do you ever bathe?"

"On occasion." Gobber shrugged. Hiccup and I shared a nervous look. Obviously the same thought went through both our minds: If he's this careless with himself, how can we even hope to survive the first day in the arena?


End file.
